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Maybe one day I’ll forgive myself, but this isn’t about me.
I meant what I said about wanting Charlize to have a good life, and even if that’s not with me, I’d have to come to terms with it.
“So, do we have a deal? We’ll date, and I’ll stay out of your room and not fuck you until you beg me for it.”
“That won’t take too long.”
I smooth her hair back, rubbing her nose with mine. “I’m serious, my darling. I want this to work. I want to get to know you. All about you, without the sex. Maybe when you know me properly, you won’t like what you see.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “That isn’t possible and you know it.”
“I could be a slob.”
“You’re not. I’ve seen your wardrobe and I’ve ransacked your fridge. You’re a neat freak. Some may say that’s a red flag.”
I chuckle. “I’m a walking red flag, baby, haven’t you heard?”
And that’s how the woman of my dreams moved into my house and we started dating and getting to know each other. Day by day. Little by little.
The weeks fly by and I know Ariana’s birthday is coming up because it’s all Charlize has been going on about. I want to surprise her with my jet; fly her to Seattle so she can spend some time with her friends. I know how much she misses them, and if she stays in London permanently, then we’re going to be commuting a lot.
“Your move,” she says over the chess board. Yes. This is how I’ve been spending my nights. Drinking red wine, eating cheese and dip and learning all about everything Charlize.
“You know you can’t win,” I tease.
“That’s because you’re some kind of chess Yoda freak.”
“I’ve no idea what that means.”
“A couple of sandwiches short of a picnic, perhaps?”
I glance up. “Your Aussie slang has no place in this house.”
“Don’t spit the dummy, you’ll be right.”
I try not to laugh. Her Australian sayings sometimes go right over my head.
“I need a dictionary around you.” I move my pawn into position, hiding my smirk.
“Tell him he’s dreaming. This is a dog’s breakfast.”
“Stop trying to talk your way out of losing, again.”
“Although you think this is better than a ham sandwich, I think I have buckley’s chance of winning. I should go walkabout.”
“Spoken like a sore loser?”
She rolls her eyes. “Have a go, you mug. I’m as mad as a cut snake.”
“You know, I used to find your accent so endearing.”
She gives me a pout and flutters her eyelashes at me. “And now?”
“And now, not so much.”
“Hey!”
“Your move.”
